Frozen Memories and Snowmen
by Muriel Candytuft
Summary: The first snowfall after the White Witch's defeat makes Tumnus remember what he wishes he could forget. [Discontinued.]
1. Chapter 1: The Snowman Begins

Frozen Memories

A/N: This story is Tumnus-centric, and contains fluff as well as slight angst. I do not support L/T. Contains two OC's.

1.) The Snowman Begins

"It looks like someone took and dumped a whole bag of sugar all over the courtyard!" Lucy almost shouted in her excitement, running towards the door that led to Cair Paravel's upper courtyard.

"Queen Lucy, you're forgetting your cloak!" Tumnus scurried after Lucy, grabbing her cloak off a chair as he passed it. "You know Queen Susan wouldn't—"

Lucy stopped her mad dash long enough for Tumnus to fasten the soft burgundy cloak around her shoulders, and bolted for the door again.

Tumnus smiled to himself as the door slammed behind her. It had been a hundred years since he'd seen anyone so joyous about a snowfall.

Suddenly the door burst open again, and Lucy's head, cheeks flushed with cold, popped in. "Aren't you coming, Mr., Tumnus?" she demanded.

Tumnus hesitated. "Well, I don't really—"

"Oh, come on, pleeeease," Lucy begged, tugging on the reluctant Faun's arm. "This is the first snow of the year!"

"Oh, all right," Tumnus sighed, attempting to smile while he wrapped his scarf around his neck. "But you should know…nothing you say will convince me to stick my tongue to an icicle."

Lucy giggled and disappeared. Tumnus opened the door and winced at the chill wind that greeted his skin.

Like an ebullient little nymph, Lucy flitted about, marveling over the frozen courtyard. The glass-clear ice, the intricate snowflakes, and the white clouds her breath formed were all beyond beautiful to her. "Look," she cried, pointing to an icicle illuminated by a rare shaft of sunlight, "it's almost sparkly like a diamond."

"It certainly is," Tumnus conceded politely as he sat down quietly on a frosty stone bench.

"I'm going to build a snowman," Lucy declared, and she stooped and buried her gloved hands in the snow.

Tumnus drew his brows together quizzically. "A snowman? What's that?"

"Well, I'll tell you." Lucy's voice took on what Peter called "the explanation tone", which she only used when explaining a custom from her world that confused most Narnians. "It's where you take three large snowballs, stack them on top of one another, and give the top snowball a face. It's a man made out of snow."

Tumnus nodded. "But then what do you do with it?"

"Well…nothing. You just leave it there. It's supposed to be a decoration."

"A man made out of snow is a decoration?"

Lucy smiled and shook her head. "Just wait and see," she insisted.

"All right," Tumnus agreed, rolling his eyes and smirking. Lucy certainly had brought back some strange concepts from Spare Oom.

As she began forming a ball out of a handful of snow, Lucy started her delighted gushing again. "I don't remember any snows back home being like this! Why don't Peter and Su and Ed come out? I say, Mr. Tumnus, Narnia is quite beautiful in winter, isn't it?"

"Of course, of course," Tumnus agreed absently, burying his nose and mouth in the warm folds of his scarf. But in truth, he disagreed. Yes, he knew the prophecy had been fulfilled in Narnia's new monarchs. Yes, he knew Jadis was dead, and so were her hundred years of winter. Still, he could find no beauty whatsoever in this "first" snow. He now pretty nearly detested winter. He'd seen, lived in, and been terrorized by winter since he was but seven.

And Tumnus believed he would never recover from it.


	2. Chapter 2: The End Of Christmas

2.) The End Of Christmas

The bottom of the snowman now had a two-foot diameter. And Lucy's mouth had not stopped running as the ball grew. "I hope Father Christmas brings me tap-dancing shoes. I'm _desperate _for tap-dancing shoes. I've wanted tap-dancing shoes my _whole_ life. I think Susan was actually planning to get me some one Christmas, but she gave me a sweater instead. Do you think Father Christmas will actually come to Cair Paravel?" she demanded of Tumnus.

"I can't say, Queen Lucy," Tumnus shrugged. "It's been such a long time."

And then, from the depths of his memory, Tumnus's heard his mother singing. As he remembered when she had last sang that song, he shut his eyes and tried to ignore it. But the soft soprano voice persisted, and brought Tumnus back to his last Christmas...when he was seven years old.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"_It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old. From angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold."_

_Though seven-year-old Tumnus didn't exactly understand the words of that song, he shrieked it out best he could, along with his mother and her small crew of carolers. The singers stood before Beaversdam, where the Beavers listened and smiled. When the song was over, Mr. Beaver clapped his paws heartily and requested an encore (which he was politely refused). Mrs. Beaver made sure that all the carolers got a steaming cup of eggnog, except Tumnus, whose mother, Ginevra, declared he was too small for eggnog. Then Mrs. Beaver offered him a hot cinnamon roll, and he accepted with alacrity. Eventually, most of the carolers dispersed towards their homes, but Ginevra remained standing in the snow with her son, as she wished to chat briefly with Mrs. Beaver._

_Ginevra smiled and shook her head. "Well, Tumnus, you got a marmalade bun from the Raccoons, cookies from the Buffins, and now a cinnamon roll. If you get anymore sugar tonight, laddie, we'll have to tie you down when you go to bed."_

_"A young'un can't have too much sugar, Ginevra," Mrs. Beaver chuckled._

_"Just wait till you've got bairnies of your own, Mrs. Beaver," Ginevra replied, taking a long sip of eggnog._

_"Looks like we'll get another snowstorm tonight," Mr. Beaver cut in, with the grim satisfaction of one delivering bad news._

_"More snow?" Ginevra groaned, blowing into her hands._

_"You can't expect summer weather during Christmas time, darling," Mrs. Beaver grinned._

_"I like snow!" Tumnus interrupted around a mouthful of cinnamon roll. "There's ice skating, and snowball fights, and sledding..."_

_"And worn-out mittens, and runny noses," Ginevra continued pessimistically, but to be fair, she added, "And Father Christmas comes."_

_Tumnus scrunched his eyebrows together solemnly. "But Grandmother said there is no Father Christmas."_

_Mrs. Beaver patted his shoulder reassuringly. "It's because she's getting along in years, sweeting, and she doesn't remember as much as she used to."_

_"But Mentius said the same thing," Tumnus insisted. (Mentius was a nine-year-old Faun who lived next door to Tumnus.)_

_"Now listen here," Ginevra interrupted, hands on hips in a mock scolding attitude, "_I _know Father Christmas is real, and don't you think I'd know more than that silly Mentius?"_

_"Yes," Tumnus nodded, finishing his cinnamon roll._

_"Say, Ginevra," Mr. Beaver said, "what was that last number you all sang?"_

_"_It Came Upon A Midnight Clear_,"_

_"Can you sing it again? I hadn't heard it before today."_

_"Oh, well, it's getting late, Beaver--" Ginevra started to protest._

_"Please, love?" Mrs. Beavwer seconded the request. "It was a beautiful song, and you've got the best voice this side of the Great River."_

_Cheeks glowing at the compliment, Ginevra said, "All right, a few bars, but then we really must be getting home."_

_As Ginevra returned her eggnog to Mrs. Beaver and began the song, Tumnus leaned sleepily against her. "If I sang, would I get another cinnamon roll?" he wondered silently, but, somehow, he felt too tired to sing again. He'd been tramping alongside his mother all night, straining his inexperienced voice and being rewarded with sweets. It had been a fun night, but he felt ready to go home and wait for Father Christmas._

_Tumnus's ears suddenly pricked as an unusual noise joined the quiet of the wood and his mother's voice. It sounded something like the little bells that his aunt hung on her front door at Christmas, only sharper and higher. It grew louder and louder, joined by many thunderous hoofbeats and a shouting voice. After a minute, Ginevra and the Beavers, noticing the sound, quieted down and listened._

_An unexpected sight swept over a nearby snowbank, obviously the source of the sound, and the four Narnians gathered there could only gape. Coming to a stop near them was a magnificent sleigh, carved from a glacier, pulled by a small band of spindly reindeer. A fat black dwarf, beard falling over his furry coat, sat in the front of the sleigh and drove the reindeer with shouts and resentful cracks of his leather crop. But what sat in the sleigh behind him quite staggered Tumnus--a tall, pale, beautiful lady, in sumptuous white robes. Her golden hair was twisted in strange rolls about her head, underneath a pristine crown of icicles. Yet in spite of all this loveliness, the black glitter in her eyes made Tumnus seek refuge behind his mother._

_The Lady rose regally from her sleigh, but did not deign to step down onto the snowy ground. Looking down her delicate nose at the Beavers and Fauns, she spoke, in a placidly threatening voice. "My police have delivered me an alarming report to me. It seems you are among the few infidels left in Narnia who still celebrate Christmas, contrary to my laws."_

_"Your laws?" Mr. Beaver sputtered indignantly. "And just who might you be, missie?"_

_The Lady's eyes widened and nostrils flared, but her voice did not change. "Down on your knee. We are Jadis, Queen of Narnia, you knave."_

_"Queen of Narnia?" Ginevra spat, gathering Tumnus in her arms. "It's the first I've heard about it! Tell that to King Tristan!"_

_"I already have," the Lady replied, a smile that more resembled a grimace contorting her face. With that, she drew something from her robes and held it where they could see. A tiny golden ring, set with an iridescent red jewel, glittered between Jadis's fingers. Tumnus didn't understand what it meant, but he understood the menacing, triumphant look in the Lady's eyes, and he shrank further behind Ginevra._

_After a moment, Mrs. Beaver gasped. "Oh, dear God--it's the King's ring."_

_"All that's left of him," Jadis concluded calmly. "Christmas in Narnia is banned. Understand that, my little creatures, and I shall spare your life this time."_

_Mr. and Mrs. beaver only stared at each other, dumbfounded, nothing to say. But Ginevra, alas, had plenty to say. She drew herself up to full height and shrieked vengefully, "Then you have murdered the monarch that Aslan has appointed and tried to suppress a holiday he ordained! Black, black be your fall if you rebel against the Son of the Emperor Beyond The Sea! Black be your fall if you arrogantly tyrannize free Narnians!"_

_What happened next was still smudged and blurred in Tumnus's mind, like a watercolour painting left in the rain. He toppled on the ground, and something incredibly hard and heavy pressed down on him, crushing him. As he screamed in pain, his mother's voice was arrested in time. The weight lifted off him after a frantic scuffle, and he faintly heard those bells that he'd heard earlier retreating. Then he was in Mrs. Beaver's arms. Unable to think straight, Tumnus simply clung to her, burying his nose in her warm fur._

_After a moment, the confused, dark clouds in his mind cleared, and he pulled away from Mrs. Beaver a little. Where was his mother? She had shouted at the Lady, and that was the last he'd heard of her. Mr. Beaver stood, shock scribbled on his honest face, near a stone statue. It was a statue of a Faun, lying on its back, and it had been broken in two at the waist. How had it got there?_

_"Wh-where's Mum?" he demanded. _

_Mrs. Beaver held him close again, trembling. "Now don't worry, sweeting. Beaver, what do we do?"_

_Mr. Beaver sighed. "Take him to his dad," he said in a gruff voice. "We'll figure it out from there."_

_"Are you all right, Tumnus?" Mrs. Beaver asked the young Faun._

_"Where's Mum? I want Mum," Tumnus repeated stupidly, eyes fixed bemusedly on the statue._

_And then he realized._

_That statue _was_ his mother._

_Tumnus stood still as iron, blue eyes blank with horror. Mrs. Beaver noticed the look and yet again hugged him to her, sobbing, "I--I don't--I'm s-so sorry, sweeting! I'm so sorry!"_

_The repeated words of compassion echoed dim and metallic in Tumnus's childish mind, and the snowy wood shimmered into disturbing, swirling waves, giving way to darkness._

Tumnus pressed his fist to his mouth, stopping a sob from jarring the peace of the courtyard just in time. After his mother's death, his father had grown increasingly distant and cold. Sometimes he would snap at Tumnus, sometimes ignore him. Eventually, when Tumnus was fifteen, Jadis sent some Narnians into unprovoked battle against Archenland, Tumnus's father among them. He was never heard from again. But most alarming was that after that horrible Christmas, winter did not stop. Year after year, snow and ice blanketed Narnia.

Just like it blanketed this infernal courtyard.

"Didn't you hear me, Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy's small, outraged voice broke Tumnus grim reverie. He snapped to attention as Lucy indicated the enormous snowball she had created. "That's the bottom of the snowman."

"Ah yes," Tumnus nodded quickly. "It's coming along well."


End file.
